


Broken Resolutions

by Daegaer



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels, Demons, M/M, New Year's Resolutions, healthy eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-01
Updated: 2007-04-01
Packaged: 2020-06-10 14:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19505971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Crowley saves Aziraphale from himself.





	Broken Resolutions

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Нарушенный обет](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174932) by [rat_not_cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rat_not_cat/pseuds/rat_not_cat)



"That's _it_. I'm making a New Year's resolution," Aziraphale said, pushing the plate of chocolate digestives away. "No more fattening snacks."

"It's long past New Year's," Crowley smirked. "Hang on, it's April Fool's Day. Good one, Aziraphale, but _totally_ unbelievable."

Aziraphale waved his hand and his cup of milky sugary tea turned to a refreshing peppermint infusion. "It's no joke," he said, trying not to wince as he took a sip. "There are all sorts of health warnings in the papers these days, Crowley. High cholesterol and being more than . . . pleasantly plump is dangerous for men of a certain age, you know."

"We're not men," Crowley grinned, dunking a digestive in his coffee and watching Aziraphale try not to ogle the way the chocolate turned sleek and glossy. "And I don't believe in cholesterol. Faddish human nonsense." He pulled the plate closer and hovered over it greedily. "Come on, you can't keep this nonsense up for long. Sure I can't tempt you?"

"No, thank you, my dear," Aziraphale said. He gestured vaguely at his ancient black and white television. "You are what you eat, and all that. I saw a very good TV programme about that. Very sensible people, the Scots. It's all that herring and porridge. Keeps them regular."

"Oh, _her_ ," Crowley sniffed. "She's one of mine, didn't you know?"

"Nevertheless," Aziraphale sniffed. "It's spring. I feel I should do a little spring cleaning." He gagged as his peppermint tea stealthily became a watercress and ginger smoothie.

"I _told_ you she was one of mine," Crowley sniggered. "Oh, all right –" He turned it into an innocuous sparkling water instead.

"Is this just tap water with bubbles?" Aziraphale said, suspiciously sipping.

"They're _all_ just tap water with bubbles. It's another one of my ideas."

"Hang on, sparkling water's _mine_. You said it'd never catch on, that it was the ponciest idea you'd ever heard."

"Ah, well," Crowley said smugly. "But I filed the report first." He celebrated the look on Aziraphale's face by enjoying another biscuit. "Your whole problem was in believing me," he said through the crumbs. "And in waiting to see which of us was right. You wouldn't believe the commendation I got for it – I suppose you were wondering why your lot never got back to you?"

"You owe me dinner," Aziraphale said grimly, his righteous indignation looking just a little silly when set against his cluttered back room.

"OK. I'll find some vegan place, shall I? Or maybe just buy you a bushel of carrots?"

"French," Aziraphale said grimly. "I'll want fois gras, and expensive buttery sauces on _everything_ , and profiteroles." He snatched the plate of biscuits back and dunked one into his newly materialized cup of strong, milky tea.

"Right you are," Crowley grinned, watching him. "Right you are." Another diet attempt successfully staved off, he thought. If there was anything worse than an angel in sugar withdrawal he didn't know what. Especially as Aziraphale liked to have company in his occasional bouts of self-inflicted dietary misery. It was just as well he was so easy to distract. Crowley figured he'd be safe for at least another fifty years.

It was also just as well he didn't yet know Aziraphale had signed them both up for a course of Ashtanga yoga in Charing Cross Sports Club.


End file.
